


Red

by flickerthenflare



Category: Glee
Genre: Angst and Humor, Canon Compliant, Communication, Episode Related, Established Relationship, M/M, Self-Defense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-22
Updated: 2014-04-22
Packaged: 2018-01-20 09:15:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1504964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flickerthenflare/pseuds/flickerthenflare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaine makes Star Wars fanfiction his next guilty pleasure to lean too heavily on and Kurt steals stage props, which makes them both realize they aren’t handling the assault as well as either is leading on. Set after “Tested” (5x16). Warnings for non-graphic discussion of assault, violence, and self-defense/self-defense weapons. PG-13.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red

_One more day. One more day until it’s finally Saturday night at Kurt’s followed by Sunday brunch: my favorite two days of the week. I can entertain myself until then. I’m always the one to invite myself over, and I’m going to resist unless he invites me. This is New York City: there’s plenty for me to do on my own on a Friday night! It’s like my very own Choose Your Own Adventure novel. Now what to choose?_

_I have to choose wisely because going out to see the city is how my ill-fated food tour began. Getting food is a goal in and of itself in an otherwise completely overwhelming city. Food gave me something to do other than be one of millions trying to LOOK like they have purpose. If you get lost, you just walk into a diner and make yourself at home. Or you get out of the rain by popping into the Hershey’s store in Times Square. Or you warm up to hot chocolate topped with whipped cream._

_Best to stay in to avoid temptation. I have a million more excuses after that one as well: my energy is shot; I’m saving money; homework is more likely to get done at home; it’s dark. Best to stay in my room as well: Sam an I have started to go on “Vanity Runs”, as Sam dubs them to make them seem more fun, but I can’t convince myself to go alone and Sam and Mercedes are busy with their unresolved sexual tension so I don’t think Sam will be up for a run or any other form of my company tonight unless it’s 2 AM and he wants Star Wars fanfiction._

_I don’t handle being alone as well as Kurt does. I am BORED without Kurt._

_I think I miss him more than he misses me._

_Maybe I’m just not good at being alone._

_It’s totally fine, though. Kurt needs space after being ‘on’ all day at the diner and NYADA, and I like how affectionate he gets when he’s had a chance to miss me. It’s the times in-between that are hard._

_He’ll definitely have a chance to miss me if I wait until tomorrow._

_I’m still sore from my fight with Kurt about porn and it’s likely to end in more guilt than pleasure, so I turn toward my next “guilty pleasure” with significantly less guilt: Star Wars fanfiction. What started out as a mildly entertaining pastime to ease Sam’s insomnia is quickly becoming a new obsession. I browse for a while without settling on what to read. The silly stories I share with Sam, and the romantic ones I haven’t read already and that actually appeal to me are in short supply._

_With a flash of inspiration, I decide to create my own, pairing the spares after_ Return of the Jedi _so Luke Skywalker finds love with the ever-dashing Lando Calrissian and they restore peace throughout the galaxy in what will be the most romantic rare-pairing ever!_

_I outline the progress of their relationship from first meeting in_ Empire Strikes Back _when Luke is beaten and hanging on for his life with one hand only to be caught in Lando’s arms, to Lando’s redemption for being a coward and letting Darth Vader push him around by not running from a fight. I make decent progress until I get stuck on what comes after that: why would a Jedi Master even bother with a man who is charming but whose glory days are behind him? How could a guy in need of so much redemption measure up to the hero? Gratitude for that one moment, even if it’s how they meet, can only extend so far. Maybe the relationship would work if Luke were still a simple, painfully young boy from the middle of nowhere who had yet to see worlds he’d only dreamed of, but then he went and got ripped and magical and saved the day. He is too good to be true; he is literally one of a kind. How can he have a relationship of equals when he has no equal? Someday along the line, he is bound to realize he can do better, probably when he tires of saving the sidekick._

_I can’t write past it. I can’t figure it out. Which is funny, because Lando Calrissian used to be my favorite character. Liking Lando is why I thought the story would be a good idea in the first place._

_I trash the story and go to bed early. I leave my phone on the nightstand. I’ll see Kurt tomorrow, just like we scheduled, or wait until he says he needs me there before I say I need him._

***

Kurt suggests replacing Sunday brunch with Sunday jogging, so Blaine packs his overnight bag accordingly and mentally prepares himself for the early-morning alarm but, prepared or not, Sunday morning comes and Blaine wants to stay in bed. More specifically, he wants to stay in Kurt’s arms. Kurt grunts when Blaine pushes too hard to keep him close against the alarm’s pull. A steadying hand lands on Blaine’s back and strokes until Blaine stills again. 

The alarm sounds a second time. Blaine squeezes his eyes shut lest Kurt get the idea that he should take the wake-up alarm seriously. Blaine usually wakes before Kurt, but today he is reluctant to let go. Kurt gave him all the attention he hoped for and then some thanks to carefully built up longing, but Blaine still wants more. Of all the comforts he has indulged in lately, Kurt on Sundays is the one he’ll cling to the most.

The alarm becomes more insistent that it not be ignored in sharp chimes.

“I’m getting up,” Kurt warns before his second attempt at detangling.

Blaine huffs sleepily but allows it and faceplants in the warm space Kurt leaves behind.

Trying to force sleep to return without Kurt in his arms is less appealing, and he can’t tune out the count of each push-up. He tangles with the comforter as he turns to watch the flex of Kurt’s newly defined muscles and runs a hand over his own sleep-mused hair.

After watching the first 20 push-ups or so with rapt attention, Blaine realizes he should probably join instead of watch. Or move at all. He rubs at his eyes.

“Running?” Blaine asks around a yawn.

“After this.” Kurt skips forward in his counting for the push-ups he talked over. The push-ups are relatively new, but Kurt is not going to shake up his routine now that he has it set. After a few more, Kurt pauses long enough to smile fondly up at his audience. “You can sleep a little longer. I’ll wake you when it’s time to go.”

With a glance back at the empty space Kurt left behind that becomes less and less appealing the longer Kurt stays away, Blaine slides out of bed to get ready.

Kurt has clothes on – _disappointing_ – and is packing his running bag when Blaine returns.

Kurt’s eyes flit over Blaine’s form. “No shorts?”

Blaine laughs at Kurt’s own disappointed look. “I didn’t pack shorts, no.”

Kurt’s lips purse into a genuine pout.

“We could always work in physical activity in other ways…” He feels exponentially more awake at the possibility. More sure in his skin knowing that Kurt wants to see it.

The gleam in Kurt’s eyes dances at the suggestion. He pulls his lips tight over he teeth to hide his smile but shakes his head. “We have plans.”

“Or delay our run by... Let’s say 30 minutes?” Blaine offers to tempt him into agreeing.

Kurt glances at his watch and forces his suppressed smile away. “After. Definitely after.”

Kurt slides his fingers along Blaine’s side to ease the rebuff as he turns away. The touch and the promise of later soothe the largest of Blaine’s worries that he isn’t wanted after all, but he will have to see if he can work wake up sex into Kurt’s Sunday routine another time. As far as Blaine is concerned, running doesn't need to take place at a certain time on Sundays that just so happens to coincide with the time Kurt goes running every other day in the routine he has created in the past few weeks.

He leans in for a kiss and Kurt happily obliges, which soothes the reason of Blaine’s fears. His arms curl tight to hold Kurt as close as possible again, just for a moment. He never gets enough of having Kurt close. He lets go only when he worries Kurt will think he isn’t respecting Kurt’s request to wait until after the run to get intimate, and even then he hovers in Kurt’s space.

“You still up for coming with me?” Kurt asks.

“Always.”

Kurt slings his running backpack over his shoulder. “How much am I allowed to push?”

“I’ll be fine,” Blaine says automatically.

Kurt waits with his head tilted like he’s expecting more of a response.

The thought that Kurt might be able to outrun him is a new one. But Kurt jogging every day is new too. “You can talk and run at the same time, right?”

“And I’ll stay by your side.”

Blaine loves the variations of Kurt’s smiles. The one he’s favored with now is not the strongest, but it’s genuine and affectionate.

They hold hands on the way down to the ground level until Kurt takes off running when they hit the street. Blaine follows quickly thereafter. Kurt sets the pace, and Blaine does his best to keep up, but Kurt’s words aren’t quite true because he stays a step or two ahead even when Blaine picks up speed.

The view trailing slightly behind Kurt is lovely, so Blaine tells himself he is fine not running exactly side-by-side.  They’re still close enough to talk and to touch if they want, even if Kurt never lets him catch up. He concentrates on the rhythm of his sneakers on concrete and the cadence of his breath. Doing something feels good. He forgets that lately without Kurt or Sam or Mercedes to remind him. Each step forward feels like progress even if he doesn’t pull even with Kurt.

His eyes rove up and down Kurt’s form to occupy his thoughts while he jogs. Kurt’s short sleeves show off the muscles of his arms. Strong shoulders taper to his thin waist with his shirt following the lines. His thighs and calves are stronger than they used to be. The first summer of their relationship, Kurt blushed and mumbled something about baby fat at Blaine’s first hint that it was too hot for their level of layers. Blaine doesn’t remember the specifics of the moment other than thinking Kurt was too cute for words. Kurt looked up at him with nervous pride the first time he peeled off his shirt in front of Blaine, peeking to make sure Blaine was watching. They worked so long to coax themselves toward a level of comfort with each other that Kurt now has with the rest of the world.

Sweat collects in the small of Kurt’s back below his backpack around halfway through a CD-worth of songs on Blaine’s iPod. When they both lived in Ohio, Kurt didn’t even _like_ running. Or sweating unnecessarily. Richard Simmons and prancercise used to be enough for him and he thought nothing of eating a whole (mini) cheesecake by himself.

Blaine stares long enough to eventually notice Kurt’s running pack has sharp edges. Something is protruding the thin material. The edges don’t look like they belong to apartment keys. Unless Kurt has found a strange new phone cover, it’s not that either.

One of Kurt’s favorite sayings pops into Blaine’s thoughts: _curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back_. He doesn’t subscribe to the belief as much as Kurt does, but he does feel its tug. Blaine picks up speed, reaches out, and touches.

His fingers pull back from unexpected cold and sharpness longer and thinner than keys or a phone.

“You stole a prop?” Blaine’s brow furrows.

The muscles in Kurt’s back jerk. The bag yanks away from his touch. Kurt shoots an irritated look at him.

Blaine’s legs propel him forward to keep up. His voice pitches in realization. He can picture the hidden object clearly: long and thin and beautiful in Kurt’s hand as long as Blaine doesn't think about the danger to his limbs. 

“Oh my god, do you think you’re a ninja turtle? Or _Puck_? Are you going to a _rumble_?” Blaine rushes forward to see Kurt’s face.

“I’m good with them.” Kurt tilts his chin and focuses straight ahead on the jogging path. “I learned baton from my brief stint on the Cheerios.”

“ _Clearly_ twirling a giant knife is the next logical choice.” Blaine is reminded of the girl eaten by a wolf in _Into the Woods_ who now wears the wolf’s skin and carries the knife that cut it open as future protection.  Blaine’s mind works past the sheer recklessness of carrying dangerous-looking props to the reason why Kurt would steal it in the first place and the pit in his stomach sinks further. Kurt didn’t choose to make off with NYADA property just because it looks cool like he does with clothes from the closet at Vogue.

“It’s a sai. Knife sounds so common,” Kurt corrects.

“Sorry for making your _weapon_ sound unclassy!”

“It’s a _prop_.”

Kurt’s defensive tone sets Blaine more on edge. Kurt has had some crazy ideas in the time that Blaine has known him – infiltrating a conservative private high school in knee-high boots; force-feeding doves glitter so their poop is wedding-appropriate; auditioning in the nude; entering into an exclusive relationship with a boyfriend pillow named Bruce; getting a tattoo and drinking at the same time; getting a tongue piercing that last less than a week - but few have scared Blaine like this.

“Why do you need props for an activity like running that requires literally nothing? And what if you get stopped by the police?”

“I don’t get stopped,” Kurt scoffs with enough arrogance Blaine’s blood pressure threatens to skyrocket further. Kurt puts on his impenetrable mask and it’s like he can still technically listening but he’s not going to let the words land and mean anything.

And Blaine thought he was the one in their relationship most likely to pretend to be a superhero. Kurt acts like he’s invincible.

Kurt picks up speed as an end to the conversation. Kurt moves too fast for Blaine to catch his breath, but he follows on Kurt’s heels.

“Kurt. We should talk about this.” He has a dozen questions he could demand of Kurt - how long ago he stole it; what the hell his plan is; if this is his way of being okay leaving the walls of his apartment – But Kurt has to already know, on some level, what he's doing with his stolen prop and Blaine can guess the answers to most. Kurt has already justified it to himself using whatever insane, panicked Kurt-logic the last few years of hostility, death threats, and assaults have bred. 

Running obsessively actually makes the most sense of everything going on.

Blaine’s heart feels like it’s breaking for Kurt. He tries for gentle, but tone is hard to manage when he can barely speak. “Kurt…”

“I need to keep running.” There’s no room for discussion in his voice, but for first time Kurt sounds panicked underneath the steel. Like it's dire that he keeps running.Kurt’s insistence reminds Blaine of last April when he panicked about Burt’s cancer and controlled all that he could, from his daily routines down to the color of his socks.

Blaine is forcefully encouraging when he suggests, “How about we go back to blue socks for clear skies?”

“Working out isn’t a superstition. It’s something I want to do,” Kurt huffs. His tone doesn't invite further conversation – unsurprising since Kurt will avoid any conversation that puts him on the defensive.What started as a jog builds to full sprinting under Kurt’s determined focus on the path instead of on Blaine. They pass the speed where having a conversation is comfortable.

Blaine’s lungs burn. He is close enough on Kurt’s heels to hear that Kurt isn't unaffected by his brutal pace either.

“Kurt, stop!” Blaine swallows thickly. His voice is thin as he catches his breath. For the first time Blaine feels like he might not catch him.

Blaine stops dead in his tracks in hopes that Kurt won’t choose to leave him behind.

“How can I be honest with you if you don’t want to hear me at all? What's the point of saying we can talk if you won't let me?"

Kurt goes from running hard to standing completely still. He pivots to face Blaine with the same deep breaths Blaine is taking. It’s the same stance as when they last faced off - strong but caution reads across his features. All of Kurt is so much stronger than it used to be, and it’s not by chance. And yet he still looks like the lost boy Blaine met on the stairs.

Blaine reaches for Kurt’s hand and Kurt lets him take it.

Blaine steers them alongside a bench off the park pathway where they can both breathe hard and quick at the sudden change in tempo in peace from other runners.

Kurt quickly looks around their surroundings and then drops his eyes back to their joined hands. His voice is thin when he says, “You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

“You had a …” Blaine searches for a gentle enough word and pretends the pause is so he can breathe. “A rough experience.”

He winces at his own words that shy away from the truth.  

“You don’t get to condescend either. I am _prepared_.” Kurt says each word with precision to make up for his lack of breath support behind them.

Blaine holds their clasped hands over Kurt’s heart. “I’m all for you protecting yourself, but in ways that don’t have a high likelihood of turning me into Maria from _West Side Story_.”

He forgets how young Kurt is now that it’s not his most prominent feature. He looks it the moment when his features soften to something more vulnerable than the mask he has been wearing.

“Let me buy you pepper spray,” Blaine says. “There’s a pharmacy near your apartment, and I can’t figure out what hours they’re open, but they has advertisements for mace alongside the fad diet pills. Stores in New York are weird like that.”

Kurt hesitates to agree.

"I'm not trying to save you. I'll just be... I don't know, someone you can lean on. I still want to look out for you. Or be your sounding board. Let me tell you when you can't keep doing what you're doing. Let me help. I’m not trying to make you my delicate flower of a boyfriend by offering to help. I know you’re amazing and brave and I’m not erasing that by saying you need to listen to me. You know that I have …” He still struggles to say it aloud. Kurt _knows_. He doesn’t need to rehear what Blaine went through years ago. “I think we could both use some pepper spray. I know that self defense weapons aren’t foolproof and you need time to set it off, but worst-case scenario…”

Blaine cuts himself off again and swallows hard. He isn’t going to say the worst-case scenario, but it wasn’t what he was about to say. Buying pepper spray from the local pharmacy is so little to offer to Kurt. It’s a cheap device that’s too slow and too hard to reach to offer anything but comfort when untested.

“You could throw it?” Blaine begins again with a twisted wince that acknowledges it’s a stupid comfort before it even passes his lips. “Or string two together and turn them into nunchuks if you need something you can twirl that has been used by a ninja turtle.”

That gets a laugh out of Kurt.

“Okay.” Kurt meets Blaine’s eyes as he agrees. He rubs his thumb along Blaine’s tucked under his.

“Don’t actually do that, please. It’s probably illegal,” Blaine warns in a rush.

“I won’t. Pepper spray nunchuks is a worse idea than carrying props.” Kurt cracks up further in genuine amusement.

“I wouldn’t go that far. You stole the idea from _Puck_.” Blaine breathes a little easier now. Part of it’s the break from running hard, but most of it’s from seeing Kurt smile. “We could decorate it to make it something you want to carry. Something bright and cheerful so it’ll look more like an oversized key ring your fiancé gave you than… what it is.”

“Swaying me with a craft project even though I already said yes?” Kurt teases with a small smile. “I’ll do yours and you do mine. I’m picturing an argyle pattern with different colors of rhinestone. Or a bowtie pattern in metallic paints.”

Kurt coaxes Blaine closer to his side with a tug of their joined hands and points them back the way they came.

“Well, I’m picturing a surprise for you,” Blaine says just to keep their lighthearted banter alive.

“You’re not making it next to me?”

“Of course I am. It builds the suspense.”

“Do you think they have craft supplies at the pharmacy?” Kurt asks.

“I have no idea what other mystery items they keep there, but we’ll see.”

Kurt’s smile stays in place as they walk back toward home. It’s another one of the fond ones he seems to save exclusively for Blaine. Even with all the missteps and things he has to offer that are never enough, Blaine can’t help feeling like he did something right.


End file.
